


Qamari

by fichuntie, Juskla



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Elf Culture, Gen, Gen Work, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Growing Up, Illusions, Misgendering, Moonshadow elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fichuntie/pseuds/fichuntie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juskla/pseuds/Juskla
Summary: Snippets of Rayla growing up along with another moonshadow elf, Qamari. Tinker and Runaan tell her not to bite elves.





	Qamari

**Author's Note:**

> this fanfic shows my headcanon for the way some moonelves may manage their body & gender dysphoria within their culture. I am open to constructive comments. Others are welcome to lift ideas, remix this fic, or transform in their own work similar ideas. 
> 
> juskla as beta, also on twitter as 'itsjuskla'  
> [itsjuskla](https://twitter.com/itsjuskla)
> 
> twitter:fichuntie
> 
> [fichuntie](https://twitter.com/fichuntie)

“Qamari isn’t a boy!” Rayla stomped. “Elves don’t lie!”

Runaan’s elegant white brows furrowed. “It’s not a lie.”

“Qamari’s just using an illusion,” Rayla insisted. “Like when you go invisible. But you’re still there.” She pouted her chubby cheeks, not yet marked. 

Runaan scraped a hand over his face and settled the other hand on her shoulder. Rayla bounced on her feet, impatient, but willing to listen to her mentor.

“No, moonling,” Runaan sighed. “Qamari may be using an illusion, but he shows us a truth much truer than our eyes could see. We are not lying by speaking to that truth." Runaan waved vaguely at his chest. "His mortal body may be changing against him, but the Moon Nexus knows who he really is. He feels so empowered by the moon's energy. As moonshadow elves, Tinker and I understand and respect the special connection between Qamari and the moon. We all connect differently and personally with the moon, don't we, Rayla?”

Rayla looked down at her nascent chest. She looked down at her wrists which had never been tied with silk. She felt the slow steady thump of her heart.

She looked back up at Runaan. Runaan’s patient green eyes met hers. The lines on his face eased as he smiled at her. 

“You don’t understand yet, little moonling. Be patient, and be kind. All things are balanced between sun and moon.”

Rayla nodded, hesitant. 

“If you have any other questions, ask Tinker. I’m not the elf for this mission,” Runaan said and pulled her into a hug. His strong arms wrapped around her, and her cheek pressed against his chest. His heart beat and the cool metal of his pendant tickled her cheek. Rayla nuzzled closer. At the top of her head, she could feel Runaan’s nuzzle back. 

**

Tinker was just as confusing as Runaan, maybe more so since he didn’t give her as clear instruction on how to refer to Qamari.

“Why do I always get the delicate tasks?” Tinker asked Runaan. Rayla liked Tinker’s voice which reminded her of the rustling of leaves by the river. 

“Because you are more suited to them,” Runaan answered, nuzzling against his cheek. “I have swords to polish.”

“After this, you certainly do,” Tinker snorted, but returned the gesture. Tinker returned his attention to Rayla as Runaan crept off. “How do I explain? Qamari isn’t lying; no elf can. He might not be himself yet, but by performing as his new self he will become it. By acting as himself, he will become more himself. Our duty as his clan and kin is helping each elfling become themselves, encouraging their sense of self and reflecting it back to them. Like the moon and sun, reflecting light on each other and down on Xadia! Each day he will embody the Qamari he wishes to be until it becomes as easy as breathing, as moonlight. Just as you, or Runaan, or I slowly become ourselves by being recognized and recognizing others. Do you understand?”

Rayla paused with her ears twitching. She looked very closely at Tinker’s face. His smile was soft even as he fiddled with a string of wire. She remembered the fuzzy warmth of his scarf pressed against her cheek when she first told him she wanted to be an assassin, how he had encouraged her. She still wore the leather gauntlets he had made her even though she had almost outgrown them. 

“If you don’t understand I could always make some cinnal and rosemary buns and then explain again,” Tinker offered.

Rayla’s stomach growled.

“Yes, that’s what we’ll do,” Tinker said, pulling the little elf into a tight hug. “Just respect Qamari’s wishes for now, however he wishes to be called, and don’t bite anyone just because you disagree with them.”

“I heard assassins get to bite people all the time,” Rayla insisted as they headed back to the kitchen.

“But not elves,” Runaan said. 

The cinnabuns were very good, Rayla thought, and probably worth Tinker’s rambling lecture. 

**

Rayla and Qamari took different lessons. Qamari’s talent for illusions spread vast beyond even Rayla’s. He could fade to only a bare outline even on the full moon with only his glittering purple eyes giving away his location. Rayla could only manage to fade to a dull translucence. Runaan always spotted her, whacking her out of her perch behind a tree branch with a huff. Disappointment. But Runaan had a similar disappointment for Qamari’s unwillingness to hit and stab with full force. 

“How do you do it?” Rayla asked Qamari.

He shrugged.

“I need to know. Disappearing is one of the tests to become an assassin,” Rayla insisted. She wrapped her three fingers over her heart, the soft swell that was emerging there and the heavy breaths after so much running. “I’d give my heart to serve Xadia. Surely you can give me some advice!”

“You feel the moon source in your heart, yes?” Qamari asked. Qamari tapped his own flat chest. 

Rayla hesitantly nodded.

“For me, there is a place between my heart and my body, and in that space there is room for moonlight. The body is an illusion, one the moon can craft and change if you are open to the light,” Qamari said. His voice was rustling between childhood and adolescence, but his confidence made the words deep and still. 

Rayla squinted.

"When I was younger, I didn't feel at home in my body. I didn’t like the name that was tied to me either. But I especially didn’t like when the others called me ‘she.’ It made me angry. Their words did not feel like my truth. I wanted to run from those who misunderstood me. I wanted to leave Xadia altogether. How could I give my heart for a place that could not see my heart at all? Living like that was hurting me. But since then, Rayla, I have found the words to express how I feel, and found myself in the glowing light of the moon. It's power allows me express myself in a way that shows to everyone who I truly am: Qamari. 'He'. Me. Both those who know my story and those who do not now know that I am a boy. My magic is doesn’t hide a truth, but reveals it. As Qamari, I can give my heart, as you do, as Runaan does, as we all do."

“You’re too much into the moonlight,” Rayla huffed. “You sound like the nexus elf when she’s drunk on juniberry wine.”

Qamari laughed. He transformed into the older elf, “And you are too literal.”

Rayla pouted. 

**

The two elves saw each other less often, diverging paths of light in the prism of growing up. Both of them remained at the top of their respective classes. 

For the harvest moon festival, the two danced together. Rayla’s silky trailing ribbons caught the moonlight, glistening like pearls. Qamari’s emerald vest flickered in and out of the darkness, his pale fingers trailing over his body and flicking through his long hair. Their movements synchronized perfectly, stomping perfectly with the beat of the drums and elven singing. The blue-green grass under their feet swayed as if it too could hear the tides of music. Surrounding elves clapped to the rhythm of their dance. Qamari smiled at Rayla who smirked back.

The revelry was wild and happy. Rayla drank very heavily of the wine, laughed very loudly with her friends. Qamari and Rayla received compliments for their performance, gentle nuzzles and firm hand clasps. Qamari blushed over his purple facial markings, shy at the attention. 

“How can you dislike your body? It’s you, and you’re so strong and graceful, like moonlight on a river,” Rayla whined. Drunk on wine and joy at adulthood, she shook the other elf. “I’d give anything to have your stone skipping gait.”

“I can like some things about my body, but still dislike other parts,” Qamari answered.

“I love my body. Every breath and heartbeat for the glory of Xadia! And the feel of wind when I’m at the top of a tree, Qamari: it’s so good in my lungs and skin,” Rayla giggled, drunkenly effusive. She tangled her fingers in Qamari’s braids. “You’ve felt that right?”

“Sometimes,” Qamari said. “Fleeting like a blue moon, but sometimes.”

“Thunder, I can’t wait to feel human blood on my blade,” Rayla said. She giggled again, imagining Runaan’s proud smile.

“Rayla, you don’t mean that,” Qamari’s voice had that same lake-stillness Rayla knew only the high priests of the nexus could achieve. “Your heart beats for Xadia, but you’re kind.”

Rayla’s heart stuttered. She was too drunk for this honesty thrown into the night. 

“Well, what will you do?” Rayla asked. She couldn’t deny. But every assassin knew how to deflect a blow.

“I’ve been offered to go to the moon nexus,” Qamari’s said. His voice returned to the uncertain timbre of a young elf on the edge of the shadows. “But I don’t want to be tied there. Lots of elves like me stay at the nexus, to keep the illusions strong… but…”

Qamari’s violet eyes flicked to the rest of the festival revelers. Cautious. Then in a lower voice he continued.

“I want to see more of Xadia than just that, even if it means my illusion may fade sometimes. I’ve heard about so much magic, so much of the world. I can’t stay by a lake my whole life when so much is happening. Maybe there’s a better spell out there, something that is more steadfast than the moon. I heard star elves don’t even have these concerns. Like the stars, their kind is just infinite, always expanding, never touched by the struggles of a body.”

“That’s lore, Qamari. You can’t give up your future for a rumor,” Rayla said.

Qamari tore off one of his ribbons, twisted the silk over their wrists binding them together.

“Will you keep a secret for me?” Qamari asked.

Rayla looked down at the twist of silk, its ragged white edge held by Qamari’s trembling fingers. 

“Yes, I swear to the moon, I’ll keep a secret,” Rayla answered, her own voice still and hushed.

“I want to go to Katolis too. I heard there are humans, humans like me. I want to meet them, talk with them, share our stories, our remedies, our truths.”

Rayla gasped. She placed her other hand over the knotted ribbon. 

“I will keep your secret, but you cannot be serious,” Rayla whispered.

“I can provide them with the magic of the moon, and they can teach me the ways of their culture. Perhaps we could even grow together! Who is the say that the light of the moon varies so far from the light of the torch? In the dead of night, do not humans and elves both stand under the light of the same moon? I truly feel we could co-exist. Maybe one day you may feel that way too.” Qamari said.


End file.
